


(He wouldn't.)

by elizathehumancarrot



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Confusing Parental Situations, Crying, Get ready bois, Hurt/Comfort, It's hard to explain, M/M, Projecting, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Uninformed Parents, be careful, be safe, but only the mother, gets sad fast, vent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 10:57:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17980025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizathehumancarrot/pseuds/elizathehumancarrot
Summary: Michael tried, promised that he'd tell someone, anyone, promised he'd reach out.He did.And after that, he didn't.





	(He wouldn't.)

**Author's Note:**

> y'all be safe trigger warning for self harm and no comfort happens this chapter

_12:50 am, 6th grade_

Michael, it seemed, had forgotten how to breathe.

He stared up at the ceiling of his room, cold, but not bothering to turn the heater on.

What did it matter, anyways?

 _I have homework to do._ He started to feel sick, guilt pooling at the bottom of his stomach, coiling tightly and weighing him down. _Fucking hell, I have **homework** to do. I have to stop slacking off. I can do better._

_He rolled over._

 _It’s fine,_ he thought, knowing it wasn’t really fine, hasn't been fine, wouldn’t ever _really_ be fine, but how was he supposed to do homework when he didn’t even want to live? The inside of his arm ached, begging to be scratched at. 

_Pathetic, honestly. Can’t do anything right. Sixth grade is supposed to be easy. Why can’t you get through it without all this shit? What, advanced math?_ Michael swallowed, tears starting to well up. He tried to force the thoughts away, but they kept on throwing themselves back. _Disgusting. Everyone else has 90s. What’s with **your** fucking 70s?_ He shook his head, begging the voices in his head to stop. 

They didn’t. 

Michael squeezed his eyes shut, a lump burning in his throat, stealing the breath from his lungs. _You disappoint everyone. Really, just kill yourself. You only make people unhappy. What’s wrong with you?_ He shook his head. _Please, that’s not true, I- You attack people when they say the slightest thing wrong. When they’re trying to **help** you. Everyone thinks you’re not good enough, even your own fucking mother, and she’s even got the best of intentions. Pull it together, you lazy piece of shit._

Michael rubbed at his eyes with his palms. He felt like he was going to throw up. _What was wrong with him?_ Thoughts swarmed his head, knocking him over again and again. _I have to make it stop, please, make it stop, Idon’twannaliveanymore, pleasepleasepleaseplease-_

He curled up into a tight ball, squeezing his legs. His disgusting, fat legs. God, he hated himself. He opened his laptop, checking the time. _1 am. What a surprise, can’t sleep again._ At the word sleep, the voice of one of his best friends echoed in his head. 

“I know you don’t have sleeping problems, I’ve slept in the same bed as you.” Michael bit his lip harshly, putting his laptop away and trying to ignore the want, _need_ to rake his nails over his arm, but he couldn’t. _Weak,_ he thought, scratching harshly at the skin on his arm. _You have gym tomorrow and you know that you’ll have to wear a t-shirt. So weak, can’t stop even though you have places to be._ He scratched harder, breaking the skin on his arm. He felt incredible amounts better, but the guilt of the selfish thing he was doing twisted his stomach into loops. Tears slipped out of his eyes as he shook with silent sobs, gasps forcing their way out of his mouth. _Don’t let anyone hear you. After all, they’ve had worse. What you’ve got is nothing compared to what they have to deal with, leave them alone. You’re already a bother and a waste of space, don’t make yourself harder to deal with._

Eventually, he fell back onto his pillow, promising himself that in the morning, if anyone asked where the scrapes had come from, (they didn’t), he’d tell them. (He wouldn’t.)

**Author's Note:**

> this was trash  
> also tell me if the formatting is okay bc it's annoying when authors format badly


End file.
